Of Pride, A Fall, And How Tezuka Kunimitsu Cures All
by schizophrenic-susurrus
Summary: Set after Atobe's loss to Echizen in the Nationals. He is dejected. Tezuka helps. Underage wanking is part of it.


"I have to say, the new 'do doesn't look half bad on you."

It wasn't as though he hadn't been expecting it, but the voice still managed to make him jump. Scowling, he slammed the locker shut. "Fuck you, Tezuka."

Grabbing his towel from the bench where he had left it, he stalked off towards the showers, ignoring the footsteps following in his wake. The rest of Hyoutei had left earlier; he'd made it clear that he wanted to be left alone, to pick up the shreds of his wounded pride so he could piece himself together, but apparently the esteemed Seigaku captain would not deign to let him have even that last bit of dignity.

He stripped off his sweat-soaked jersey, tossing them carelessly aside, and turned on the shower with an angry flick of his wrist. Stepping under the nearly boiling hot spray, he blew an irritated sigh at the gaze trained on his back. "If you've come to gloat, Tezuka, I'd rather you do it when I'm clean, at the very least, if not decent," he snapped, impatient.

The feeling of water trickling down his scalp felt foreign, and his fingers came up empty when he'd reached up out of habit to push away wet strands of his fringe. Oh right, his hair was gone. "Fuck you too, Echizen," he muttered as he leaned his fists against the wall and lowered his head, letting the hot water beat down on him. He didn't flinch when he felt arms around his waist, and a trim body leaning into him in a protective embrace.

Laying a soft kiss on the shell of Atobe's ear, Tezuka whispered, "I'd really rather you didn't."

Atobe snorted, rolling his eyes even if Tezuka couldn't see him. "I'm not interested in prepubescent brats." He edged Tezuka backward with an elbow and twisted the faucet for cold water. Tezuka was not at all fond of hot showers, at least not as hot as Atobe liked it, he'd learned the hard way. As the water temperature gradually cooled, soft kisses were trailed down the side of his neck onto a shoulder blade before they stopped, and Tezuka's hands, cool with Atobe's favorite shower gel, began lathering his back before moving down his arms to the tips of his fingers and then to his chest.

Sighing, Atobe leaned back against Tezuka as he rubbed firm circles on his pectorals, breath hitching as thumbs brushed against his nipples in light caresses. There was a slow heat flowing through his body, following the path of his blood before gathering low in his middle. The wandering hands moved lower even as light kisses peppered his jaw line, stroking up and down his sides, his hipbones, onto the top of his thighs. Spreading his legs further, Atobe breathed out a low moan, the slow burn of arousal sending shudders up his spine.

Fingertips trailed along his cock, Tezuka's sure but teasing ministrations making it stiffen and grow. Atobe drew in a shaky breath and reached back to clutch at Tezuka's thighs, head falling back to lay helplessly on Tezuka's shoulder. Tezuka's left hand was now firmly wrapped around his cock, languid strokes pulling back the foreskin and exposing the sensitive head while his right worked on Atobe's nipples, pinching and pulling until they were a dark, angry red. Atobe panted, turning till his parted lips met fevered skin and pounding pulse. "K-Kunimitsu." The hardness pushing against the cleft of his ass turned his ragged whisper into a loud moan.

Tezuka slid his hand down Atobe's body, squeezing and stroking his inner thigh, brushing against his balls every now and then as he worked Atobe's cock faster, harder, hips rocking his own erection against Atobe in an urgent rhythm. Atobe was whimpering now, his back arching, and Tezuka clamped his lips onto the pale, inviting neck, nipping and licking and sucking until incoherent pleas began falling out of Atobe's mouth. There was the telltale trembling in Atobe's thighs, before his hips thrust erratically, once, twice, and then Atobe was coming in white, hot spurts, his cries echoing off the bathroom wall. The hand on Tezuka's thigh squeezed in reflex, and it was all Tezuka needed to prompt his own orgasm, his groans joining in the cacophony of noise.

Panting, they leaned against each other, trying to collect their breaths. Around them the shower continued to fall, washing off all traces of their activities. Atobe's eyes drifted shut as Tezuka's lips sought his, gentle and eager, which Atobe replied by tangling their tongues together, deepening the kiss. This was his favorite part of being with Tezuka, kissing him, tasting him, never getting enough and always wanting more. He's not too proud to admit that he was addicted to it, and could not imagine ever losing this privilege.

Something sharp nudged familiarly at his cheekbone, and he pulled back, turning around, belatedly noticing that Tezuka had not removed his glasses, which were fogging up in the heat of the shower. Reaching up, he tugged them off, to find Tezuka staring into his eyes, intense.

"You were amazing out there today, Keigo." Tezuka's voice was serious in praise, but Atobe was still sore, his pride wounded, and he made it clear as he bitterly replied,

"I still lost."

Tezuka nodded, and wrapped his arms around Atobe's waist, drawing him into his arms. "The match, yes, but Keigo, you won everyone's respect. You lost, but you played a great game of tennis, showed everyone your passion for the sport, and your love for your team. Moreover," Tezuka broke off to card his fingers through the short crop of hair, "You honored your promise, no matter that it was a silly and inconsequential one no one would have held you to." A kiss to his temple, and Tezuka continued, "Words cannot describe how proud I am of you."

Moved, Atobe returned the embrace, burying his face in Tezuka's neck. "I still hate your first-year brat," he said sulkily, before he sighed and conceded, "But he's a great tennis player."

He felt rather than heard Tezuka's chuckle as it rumbled in his chest. "He is. Give him a few years and he'll be a greater one." He paused. "And so will you."

Hearing this, Atobe smiled and quickly suppressing it, disentangled himself from Tezuka's arms to grin cockily at him. "That's a given. There's nowhere for Ore-sama to go but up, of course." He attempted a toss of his head before he remembered what had happened to his beautiful, precious locks and growled, eyes narrowing in contemplation. "Echizen Ryoma. Watch your back."

Tezuka's answering sigh was weary. He turned off the shower, handing Atobe his towel to dry off before wrapping himself in his own. "Whatever you're planning, I don't want to know. Just please put it off till after the Nationals."

"The brat won't know what hit him," Atobe announced confidently and smirked after Tezuka, who had left the stall and was already pulling on his clothes, before letting it melt into a genuine smile. The crushing despair that had hung over him earlier on was nearly gone, leaving him light and feeling like he still has the strength to take on the world, even after the humiliation he had been subjected to. Of course, plotting his revenge also contributed greatly to his improved mood. Briskly, he rubbed himself dry before pulling on his clothes and haphazardly shoving his belongings into his duffel bag. Tezuka was waiting for him at the entrance of the hallway, a slight smile on his face at the renewed bounce in Atobe's step.

"Come on, Kunimitsu. Ore-sama is starving. We shall have pizza." He snapped his fingers, ignored the way Tezuka was rolling his eyes, and stepped out into the night.


End file.
